


Watching the World burn (Why did you leave me?)

by BlazingStarInInkyBlackness



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anger Management, Angst, Depression, Not vol 4 compliant, Recovery, Self-Destruction, Self-Worth Issues, not really anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness/pseuds/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness
Summary: A fire burns in Yang but it's begun to fade. This is the story of how she fought, tooth and nail, to get it back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you're okay with everything in the tags before reading this, it's not a happy story for most of it.

A fire burns in Yang. It always has. On her darkest nights it keeps her awake, keeps her staring at the ceiling while she tries to quash it with the cold tears from her eyes but it still remains. Sometimes that fire strengthens her, giving her the power to hit her opponent so they won’t get back up but most of the time it leaves burns that never heal.

Most of the time it just doesn’t let her know when she’s breaking, cauterising every wound as if that way she’d not notice.

And god damn, she was breaking when she faced Mercury. Everything was falling apart slowly and she had to help them and she couldn’t. When Mercury leapt at her the fire consumed her again, rose within her and forced her arm forward to punch out, to smash her opponent’s leg apart.

She couldn’t even think over her anger, over the fire that made every molecule in her body burn. She screamed and shouted at him, keeping so many of her words silent and then she had suddenly frozen as she watched what her anger had done.

After that the fire began to die. Not just fade but die. She was kept in her room alone while her Uncle questioned her. Yang watched as the belief leached out of her teammates eyes. What did it matter?

The fire began to bank, began to flicker as life continued around Yang. Not even Blake wanted to be there, she wanted to be where she could do something, not stuck with another person who had betrayed everything they’d believed in.

When that blade passed through Yang’s arm she was almost happy.

That fire ripped away what had been left of that fire.

After that she was just cold.

Cold and empty.

Days passed and she vaguely remembered how the air around her began to leach the warmth from her body but she didn’t care. Something had broken inside her and she couldn’t explain it,

She couldn’t explain it to Tai Yang, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve and who smiled whenever he could. She couldn’t explain it to Qrow, who scowled and tried so hard to convince the world he still had something to live for. Yang was pretty sure that if she started talking to him she’d find just how long his own fire, his reason to live, had been gone for.

Ruby was the worst. Yang hated that. Ruby had a fire that burned in her heart that would never stop, no matter what she came against. Even when she’d seen two of her friends brutally killed in front of her, Ruby stayed strong. Her fire didn’t even bank, she just collected the anger and pain that could have destroyed it to fuel it, to let the fire grow stronger and let her become more determined.

Yang watched that with empty eyes.

She couldn’t ask Ruby.

Ruby’s fire was a blazing star against the blackness and every time Yang watched her wielding Crescent Rose she curled in on herself. What was the point? Ruby could harness that emptiness, could use it to fuel herself. It just left Yang lifeless.

When Ruby left Yang wanted to follow but that emptiness became so heavy, weighed her down to the point that she could barely trudge from room to room. Tai Yang watcher her nervously but Yang ignored him. What was the point?

That began to become her motto. Whenever she’d trip and reach to balance herself with an arm that didn’t exist she’d just lie there for a long moment, wondering. When nightmares ripped her from her sleep she’d just curl up, sobbing and trying to forget the white, black and red mask that began to dominate every second her eyes were closed. When Ruby left and Qrow ran after her Yang wondered why she was still there. Maybe if Yang was gone then Ruby could be found faster.

Maybe if Yang was gone her family could be happy again.

Ruby could be happy.

Yang didn’t have the strength to use Cecilia Amber for this, didn’t have the strength to turn her weapons against her.

In the end she just used a kitchen knife, waiting until she thought that Tai Yang was far enough away.

Then she stared for a long moment at the heartbeat on her wrist she wanted so desperately to silence. Her other hand itched for the knife before realising it didn’t exist anymore. So instead Yang raised the sharp knife to her throat, threw out a mumble of words that could almost be heard as an apology if anyone was listening, before ripping open her own skin.

She lay in the quickly growing pool for a long time before her body gave up on her, condemning her to sleep. She drifted slightly but not much, no more than she had been anyway.

Yang just lay there, numb, as the warmth from her veins slowly bled out into the frigid air around her.

Tai Yang found her quickly enough (too quickly she wanted to shout, she wasn’t dead yet) and carried her back to her bed, restraining the one arm she still had.

When she finally awoke he was there and he was crying. He didn’t cry. That was all Yang could think as she stared at her father breaking down. He sobbed out excuse after excuse, saying that he’d try harder and that he’d be better, that she never needed to do that, that he was there to talk to, that there were other ways.

But there aren’t, Yang replied. Not really.

At that Tai Yang had just left her alone, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

Yang watched him go blankly before turning back to the window. The movement stretched at the long injury at her neck but she ignored it. She didn’t want to die. Not really. She just didn’t want to be empty anymore.

 

As spring rolled in, Tai Yang’s determination returned with a fury, pulling Yang from her bed and forcing her to walk, even if it was just to another room. She followed numbly knowing it was the easiest way to get back to doing nothing.

Sometimes she’d catch Tai Yang staring at her with tears in his eyes but she ignored it. She hadn’t asked for this. She didn’t want this. She’d made that perfectly clear.

But Tai Yang remained, pushing her to move further every day.

Yang moved as she was commanded, sometimes glancing down at her body which had once been well toned and sleek and was now just gaunt. There had been far too many days she couldn’t rouse herself from her bed for it to be anything else.

Tai Yang guaranteed that it would be okay, that they’d fix it but Yang wasn’t sure she wanted it fixed. So she said nothing. He accepted it, as he always had.

He forced her to fight, took up the most basic fighting stance against her and expected her to raise her arm as well.

She never could remember the singular.

Yang raised both arms, blocked with both and was only ever protected by one. Every time Tai Yang got around her defence in that way he’d pause, as if he wanted to apologise but Yang would just shake her head.

The quicker she could get this over with, the sooner she could go back to her bed.

When Ruby disappeared from Qrow’s almost all-seeing eyes Tai Yang appeared by Yang’s bedside, crying once more. He begged her forgiveness and when he was just met with more silence he left her.

Yang sat there for a long time, just staring at nothing. She got up to eat when the pain got too much or to walk when her missing arm began to ache but she didn’t do much more.

She _couldn’t_ do much more.

That flame had been what had kept her going, that anger had fuelled her in the worst of times while she could do nothing to protect the people around her. Now she had nothing.

It took another month for anything to change.

It wasn’t anything big, it was just that Yang had left the door open.

And a stray cat had wandered in.

It was a ragged little thing, amber eyes staring out of a scarred black face. It limped heavily as it walked in, paw raised almost up to its stomach. It stared up at her and when Zwei began to yelp it just jumped up to somewhere the dog couldn’t reach.

“Hey kitty cat.” Yang said, voice rasping from so long unused. The cat meowed and leapt up onto her lap. Yang pulled back instinctively but then the cat just padded across her body, sniffing slightly until it settled into her lap and began to purr. Yang slowly began to pet the thing, taking care to avoid the eye that seemed to have been ripped out from some terrible conflict she couldn’t even imagine.

Over the next few days the cat followed her and meowled violently when she didn’t feed it.

Which meant she had to go into the town and buy food for it.

The first time Yang tried she couldn’t. She physically couldn’t bring her arm up to raise the latch, to open the door to the outside world. She stayed frozen for what seemed like an eternity until she finally gave up and collapsed back onto her bed, ignoring the cat and dog who now seemed so worried about her.

But the next day the cat meowed pathetically and reminded Yang how hungry it must be. So, the once huntress forced herself up, forced herself out the door and walked into the town. She ignored the murmurs around her. She knew what she looked like.

Once upon a time Yang had stalked down these streets with a predatory smirk for anyone who dared cross her. Now she all but crawled, hunched in on herself as she tried to make sure no-one would watch her, just in case the ice in her chest would spread to them.

She bought the food and then all but raced back to her bed, throwing the food down to the cat who ate while Yang sobbed silently.

Why couldn’t she do it? What was wrong with her?

She knew.

She was broken

And there was no way to fix her

“No.” Yang rasped out. “ **Fuck** that.” She all but whispered the curse. She took in a deep breath and forced herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she did. The fire had never been enough. She had never had the light in her heart like Ruby had, she’d not been that innocent for a long time. Yang had never had the openness of Tai Yang but she also knew she’d never been as broken as Qrow.

Yang stared at a tree in front of her, preparing herself to throw the first punch. Her hand was wrapped as best as she could do it which was poorly but she couldn’t make the gauntlet fit onto the skeleton of what was once her strong arm.

“Come on Yang. One, two.” Yang threw out a punch and swirled immediately to her other side, her arm raising to defend herself. She then paused as she stumbled forwards, the muscle memory overtaking her for a moment as it threw forwards an arm that didn’t exist anymore.

“Fuck.” Yang whispered, trying to hold the tears back. She couldn’t give up now. She wanted to see Ruby. She wanted to see Weiss. She wanted to see Blake. She wanted to see the world again and she couldn’t until she knew she could protect herself. “Come on.” She whispered to herself again, sniffing to try and hold the tears back. “You can do this.”

When she collapsed five minutes later she didn’t know if she’d done anything more. A few more punches had been thrown but she’d not managed to correct enough of them, not enough to battle over a decade of combat training.

When the sun rose the next day she pushed herself up, mindful to stick to just the one arm, and forced herself to get changed into fresh clothes. Yang then strode out of the door and took in a breath of the spring air. She stood still for a long moment, letting the smell wash over her before she began to run.

It wasn’t fast enough, she knew that. She knew that a Grimm could easily overtake her so she pushed herself harder, forcing herself to breathe faster and faster until it felt like her heart was about to rip out of her chest.

When her legs finally gave out Yang stumbled towards the ground, trying to brace herself on both arms and only just remembering in time so she could take painfully on her still whole shoulder and let the stump of an arm hit her body rather than the painful ground.

Yang just lay there for a long moment, wanting to just stop, to just give up. This was nothing in the grand scheme of things. If she couldn’t get through a run this far what point was there in her continuing?

She’d never wanted to be a Huntress; it had just been easy. She’d never wanted to go to Beacon, it was just where life took her. She’d never wanted to lose so much.

She had wanted to protect Blake from Adam and see where that had got her.

It took a long time until Yang was ready to stand again, it took even longer for her to begin the long walk back to the house, legs trembling with every step.

But this time when she collapsed onto her bed she kept that thought in mind; she’d wanted to protect Blake and she’d succeeded.

 

Yang didn’t heal overnight, nowhere near. There were so many days when she just lay in her bed crying at the gap where her arm should have been, the gap where her little sister should have been, sometimes even the gap where her mother should have been. On those days, she mostly just cried about the scar across her throat that she’d realised would never really heal. On those days, she didn’t want a scar. She didn’t want that pathetic attempt at healing what was already far beyond repair.

But after those days the sun would rise again. The sun would find Yang and warm her gently as she lay in her bed, tracing the scar again and again. Yang could feel herself relax ever so slightly and as the months continued she forced herself upwards.

She didn’t get to quit now, that was what she reminded herself. She could have slacked off training before the fall of Beacon, when it was still a kid’s game but she couldn’t anymore because now it was a war.

She’d fallen into that war when she was still too young and too dumb to understand what it meant. She’d followed Ruby into becoming a Huntress because it was fun, never really thinking about what it would cost her or the people around her.

But now Ruby had gone. Tai Yang had gone. Blake had gone. Everyone had gone. Yang was alone.

So she had to do this alone.

That was what she told herself every time she fell over, when she reached for something with an arm that didn’t exist anymore.

When her gauntlet finally fitted her again Yang paused before setting it down again. They were a pair. She didn’t want to separate them now, leave one without its twin. You just didn’t separate sisters.

So she started building again. Yang didn’t come close to Ruby when it came to making weapons but she was decent. Yang took scraps of metal and forged them together, knowing she’d probably have to scrap it almost immediately.

She went through weapons too quickly.

A sword was too long, didn’t let her dodge how she wanted to. A dagger was too close. Ring daggers were good but they weren’t powerful enough. Yang didn’t even try to make a scythe; she didn’t have the skill to teach herself a weapon like that singlehandedly. (Yang had smiled weakly at that pun. She’d need to figure out how to use it in a conversation some day.)

Eventually she ended up with a trident and shield combo. The shield connected to her stump, which still left so much of her side undefended but it was the best she could do with what she had.

The weapon didn’t feel right like her gauntlets had but they let her fight again, they let her feel something again.

It was odd, she’d never understood what Ruby had meant about a weapon being part of you but she was beginning to. These were a part of her and part of her was still missing.

One day she pushed herself too far, ran too fast and fell to the floor as she heard a bone crack. Yang could barely push herself up this time as she stared numbly at her broken leg which refused to obey her.

It took her a pain filled journey back for it to fully settle in. She was confined to her bed again.

This time that thought filled her with terror. Yang didn’t want to go back to that cold existence. As she watched clouds move across the sky from her window she realised just how much of her spark had come back.

She wasn’t going to let it leave her this time.

Yang pushed herself again and again but this time much more carefully. She knew how fragile her body was now, knew that her semblance still wasn’t kicking in when she needed it. So, she decided, she needed to kick-start it.

That night she grabbed a knife and shuffled to the bathroom, meeting her violet eyes in the mirror as she raised the knife to her throat.

But this time when Yang cut she angled the knife away, she didn’t rip into her skin but into her hair, tearing it apart. When she’d started she couldn’t stop.

Yang knew why people stared at her, she knew what they stared at, she knew what they expected and she used it against them. Junior had expected a child playing dress up. Torchwick had expected a slut. Mercury had expected someone so self-obsessed she wouldn’t be able to hold her temper back.

In some way they’d all been right and in so many ways they’d been wrong.

Yang stared into the mirror for a long moment.

Her blonde hair was now just jagged chunks that barely touched her skin as it fell once more. She knew the back was too long but she didn’t dare try to cut the hair back there, knowing how choppy it was even where she could still see it.

The scar on her throat was slowly fading to purple. It was a long, ugly scar that showed her in that moment how bad she’d been, how terribly she’d felt.

It had felt like the world had vanished and Yang had been abandoned but just then, staring into the mirror she wondered if that would be the worst thing. Even if the world vanished in that moment she’d fight like hell to make a new one.

 

The next day Yang slowly pulled out a wheelchair and forced it out of the house, pushing herself into the smithery. She’d given it a lot of thought and she might just be ready.

Yang remained in the room for the rest of the day, until the sun was long since asleep and her eye lids were drooping. She wheeled herself out and went back to her bed, falling asleep almost immediately. No nightmares invaded her mind and she slept without a problem for the first time in far too long.

She rose with the sun and went straight to the smithy, leaving only when the sun had long since set.

This continued for a week until Yang emerged once more, this time for good.

The summer sun shone down through the window onto her and she took in a deep sigh. It was so long now.

A year ago she’d boarded a plane with her baby sister to travel to school. Now the school was destroyed, the friends they’d made were scattered or dead, their headmaster was dead and their lives had been changed.

But, Yang reminded herself, their lives weren’t over.

Penny, Pyrrha and Ozpin had given up their lives for a better tomorrow.

_“No-one will fault you if you leave.”_

Ironwood’s words came back to Yang at that moment and she smiled. He was right. They were students, children who should never have had to fight that war. They should never have been asked to fight but they had been and too many had decided to stand their ground until the end.

The world still hated Yang, still hated her for hurting Mercury and they’d only hate her more now. But she didn’t care. The fire in her chest had begun to blaze again, this time it had slowly been brought to life by care and strength, not chance. This time it didn’t threaten to overwhelm her in the same way, she could control it, damp it down when it told her to keep going, to keep running until she broke. But she could also bring it back to life on the worst days, bring it to a full blaze and let it motivate her into waking up again.

Yang glanced down at her lap, at her leg that would be healed so soon. She’d wait.

But over her legs lay another limb.

Ruby could have done better, Yang knew that. Qrow could have done better. Tai Yang could have done it better but that wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t how good it was, the point was that _she’d_ made it.

Yang pulled the arm up and stared at it for a long time. It wasn’t pretty, that was for sure.

It was a dull silver; the joints bent and tarnished slightly where the metal had resisted her hammering. The screws were still visible, with scratches around them where her hand had shaken too much to keep the screws in place.

Yang pushed it into place and pulled the leather straps across her neck and shoulder, securing it across her body.

She then stared into the mirror, frowning slightly.

She was just wearing a light white shirt on her top half and a pair of equally light trousers on her legs. The new arm wasn’t just an arm, it also acted as armour to the rest of her arm. The tarnished metal crept around her top arm until it reached the shoulder where it melded to fit her shoulder bones and her side. It stretched across half of her chest and was then secured by long leather straps, attached by metal clips along the edge of the metal.

The arm itself had five functioning fingers and, Yang moved them slightly and smiled, they responded to her. They were slower than normal but Yang knew that Ruby could help with that.

She just had to find her.

“I’m coming Ruby. I promise.”

Yang took a deep breath and moved her right arm forwards, grasped Cecilia Ember and pulled them on. She was ready for whatever fresh hell the world was going to throw at her. She was going to get her family back together and if she had, to she’d use that fire in her chest and burn down the world to find them.

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly so tempted to write so many more character pieces about Yang, about how Raven's behaviour affected her and then the realisation that Summer wasn't her real mother, that her actual mother decided to leave her. I could talk about my love of Bumblebee (which isn't really mentioned in this but I feel is kinda hinted at.)  
> I may have written this all out a few weeks back in a slightly drunk, mostly exhausted state (I think I started at 3 AMish and didn't stop until it was finished.)  
> And Yang rebuilding her arm, taking that part of her life into her own hands, is something I am willing to talk about for forever. (Although major kudos to RT for showing Yang with PTSD and full on flashbacks, giving more diversity to what most PTSD narratives are focused around.)  
> See you next time!


End file.
